carter, genevieve olivia

[genevieve olivia carter]

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name: genevieve olivia carter
age: nineteen
membergroup: resort resident
face claim: leighton meester
history/personality: uh well... i'm not so good at describing myself. really. my mother always told me i was too modest, but i suppose that's what you get, what with being born and raised in such a strict catholic family. i wish i could consider myself as a loner... because that usually happens to people whose family basically run their life, right? ah but no, i'm not that interesting. i need company in order to maintain a healthy composition. i just feel so out of the loop without anyone to talk to.

i'm a shopper, but not in the sense that i can amble around a shopping-centre for hours on end. can't stomach it. i will whine, complain, nag, anything just to get myself out of a shopping spree. no, i'm a thrifter. op-shops and thrift boutiques are all i can really stomach for more than three hours. in fact, i worked in one for a while. utter bliss, i really have to say.

i can't pass up a coffee. the stronger and creamier, the better. in fact sometimes i drink enough to make myself sick, but didn't that documentary say that seven cups of coffee a day keeps the mouth cancer away? i'm not sure why i'm worried about mouth cancer. i don't smoke, i don't do drugs, i don't drink... well, i drink socially, of course, but the last time i was drunk i ended up with a black-eye and a fractured wrist. no siree, never again.

that's another thing about me, my "endearing" clumsiness. i suppose some people think it to be cute, but my insurance company threatened to evict me from my contract if i got involved in just one more life-threatening accident. they're sick of giving me money, apparently. well, i roller-blade. that helps with the balance, i suppose. i mean i have fallen on my face more times than i can count on the roller-blades, but i think i can now walk in a straight line without falling over.

one of my favourite things in the world is my vintage polaroid camera. you know, the whole box-ordeal, loud shutter, spits out film which magically turns into a picture? i got mine insured, i love it that much. i got another, more hi-tech camera for my birthday from my estranged father but it doesn't give me as much joy as my polaroid does. there's nothing better to be doing, skating along in some grandiose vintage attire, snapping random pictures and then coming home to look at your haul.

i also love reading. i don't have that great an attention span when it comes to the activity, but if i find a good crime novel or thriller, i'm glued for hours. i won't stop until i've read it completely. i suppose that comes from my love for english and psychology in school. by the way, in school, i believe in hard-work and that nothing is achieved without it. i'm not a brilliant student, averaging at a b+ and sometimes a's, but you know. i try.

i'm a hopeless romantic, things like sunsets, candle-lit dinners and movies on the couch are the epitome of adorable for me. however i find myself rarely in stable-relationships, probably due to the fact that i'm extremely gullible and absolutely have to see the best in someone. it leads me into situations where i'm made to do things i don't want to, but it's not like i can't get myself out of those situations. one boyfriend broke up with me because i asked too many questions about theoretical concepts which he couldn't answer. well it's not my fault that i like intelligent conversation, is it? when it comes to flirting, i'm pretty inept at expressing how i feel, so i'm a touchy-feely kind of girl. i love people who can make me laugh, just as a side thought. doesn't everybody? hopefully my prince charming will come for me someday. or else i'll have to do a fiona from shrek three and rescue myself.

i own a little shih tzu x poodle named nikita. she's my life. i got her as a birthday gift when i was four, so she's basically grown up alongside me. i'm worried about her though. she's developed a heart problem and i'm worried that she may pass on. she's my little princess, and i'll easily abandon a social event just to stay home and laze around on the couch with her. i love animals in all honesty, especially birds. whether it be a lark, pigeon, parrot or toucan, i have a fascination for them. i used to own a little parrot but once he died, i couldn't bear to own another one. i do keep seeds under my kitchen sink, you know, just in case if any pigeons or gulls appear. i hate seeing the one legged ones. they make me feel like crying.

another thing about me, pretty much all of my emotions are wired to my tear ducts. i could be enraged to the point of waving a sharp object at you and screaming, but be crying at the same time. i'm only female. i can't stand sad romantic films. not only are they usually clichéd beyond reasonable doubt, but they're just so... sad. give me a good crime film with plenty of action. oh and i can't stomach horror films. i cry from fear. that makes me sound pretty pathetic.

music wise, i guess i sound like the violin sort, but i play the keyboard. not as much as i should, but you know. i lack commitment to practising. my favourite band is the killers, and you can usually hear it whenever i'm around. apart from them, i like pretty obscure and small-time european bands. ask me about it sometime.

well, i'm sorry, i tend to babble when i get an ear to talk off. but other things i like... magnets. my fridge is absolutely covered in them. notepads, i like buying them and then never using them. there's something about neatly pressed pages that i just adore. thick milkshakes - who's ever heard of a watery chocolate milkshake? ew. i like baking but i tend to burn myself a lot. comes with the clumsiness i guess. oh and the smell of new books! and old-school/vintage items. i don't like fire, especially out of control ones. and i don't like vast quantities of water, but i don't mind the beach. that sounds a bit complex i suppose. well that's enough about me, i'm sure.

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uh, history. well i did mention before that i come from a strict catholic family. i grew up in maine, usa, but the catholic comes from italian roots, mainly on my father's side.

my father isn't directly italian, obviously, because the last name constantine isn't traditional italian. i suppose he always felt inadequate because of his "watered" down heritage, i suppose. his name was ( i say was because it's not like he's a part of my life any more. or ever will be again ) xavier constantine, and he was extremely conservative, to the extent of being controlling. conservative in the sense that if i wore shorts, he would crack it. if my sister was seen talking to a boy, the same thing. if my mother talked to a male college at work, again. another attribute to his personality was probably some extent of paranoia, which in defence he'd blame on his job as a physiotherapist.

my mother's maiden name was marina carter. now that sounds more continental, but she was the product of a woman who read too many mills and boon romances. my mother has my best interests in mind, but i suppose my trustworthiness comes from her. a gift and a curse. that was probably what led her to marrying the handsome man my father undeniably was as a youth. she said that she first saw him when he was playing basketball, and broke up with her boyfriend of seven years soon after. unbelievable, i know.

so, when i was about nine, he beat up my mother for disagreeing with him about the colour of the new couches ( she wanted coffee-brown, he wanted black ) this consequently cued her to leave with myself and my older sister, whom had already suffered verbal abuse for minor incidents for our entire lives. my sister more than myself, because he always preferred me. i was daddy's little girl. was.

at fourteen, she remarried, as you do, but i deemed my stepfather as being just as oppressive as my father, although i don' think she can see it... perhaps that's just me being paranoid myself, but there isn't anything good about that man, only that he looks after my mother. i guess that's enough. she kept her maiden name, well, insisted that she would never take the name of a man ever again. the stepfather is cool with it, any ways. his last name is really hard to pronounce so it wouldn't have looked any good on forms.

i moved out with my older sister, whom goes by the name rochelle carter and is also my legal guardian, to jellicoe, usa, but eventually moved away from there as well, fuelled by a college fund that both my mother and father continually put money into. i guess they hope i'll become a lawyer or a doctor. no, i want to be an artist or a psychologist. there's not so much money in there, so it's probably better for them to hope while i figure myself out and hoard the money elsewhere. so here i am, i suppose. i'm estranged from my birth-father, but the rest of my family and i are on good terms. i'm definitely not a drama queen about it either, no sir, you won't hear me talking about it and crying.


rp sample: candy-floss dipped fingers embraced the stem of a spoon, transporting it to a salmon-pout which captured the chocolate spread, leaving faint traces around her lips. genevieve carter thought at this moment that indulgence was no sin as she dipped the spoon back into the jar of nutella, one of the better inventions of the early 20th century. the chocolate was thick in her mouth, acting almost like the clag she had once eaten as a dare in primary school, gluing her mouth shut. perched on the kitchen bench, back arched and head resting on the overhead cupboards, genevieve felt bliss as the morning sun hit her bare legs through the slats in her curtains. nikita sat on the floor beneath her, tail wagging restlessly as she watched her master consume the spread with such zeal. do you want some sweetie? but you can’t! sliding off the bench, the female’s socks slipped a little further down her ankles, just as her grey-hoodie slid over her shorts. standing, rocking slightly on her heels, the female looked down at her canine companion nikita, what do you feel like? chicken or fish? the dog wagged her tail once. chicken, then. these simple motions that she performed step-by-step, robotic-methodical procedures only served to elevate her overall enthusiastic joy. setting a rhinestone embedded dog bowl onto the ground, genevieve crouched next to her only long-standing companion, pushing her hands into the fur just behind her neck. maybe after this, niki, i’ll go skating? what do you think? the dog mumbled something into her food, an inaudible growling sound, which conjured a smile upon genevieve’s features. right, well you finish up and i’ll go have a shower. scratch if you need to go, alright? shedding her clothes as she moved, genevieve sang a wordless tune, revelling in simply being alive on such a morning. showering was probably one of her favourite activities. it was all in smell of the shampoo and body lotion, and the drum of hot water against her back. she could stand under a strong shower-spray for an hour even, but on this morning, she was too eager to get out and about. mentally, she was ticking off the minor delights that she had experienced thus far as strolled into her walk-in wardrobe. the scent of perfume and washed fabric overwhelmed her as she gazed at her collection appreciatively. genevieve was an adept thrift-shopper, however when it came to actual shopping, she couldn’t withstand the hours it took to find a bargain. whereas, while thrifting, you had to be stupid not to pick up a bargain every time. donning a pair of high-waisted denim shorts and tucking her off-shoulder top within them, genevieve grinned at her reflection, spraying her floral perfume onto her wrists all the while. nikita watched from the kitchen, head tilted to the side. genevieve wondered what was going through the dog’s head as she grabbed her skates, handbag and polaroid camera, rushing out of the door with the old dog trundling after her. nikita reminded genevieve of a grumpy old-woman, who seemed to look on with disdain at her childish shenanigans. nikita, if you had opposable thumbs and skates, i’m sure you’d enjoy the same activities i do, genevieve laughed. the female left her faithful canine in the conjoining apartment gardens, carefully locking the gate behind her, in order to prevent any escape attempts. it wasn’t as if nikita ran-away because she wanted to get away, but more as if she saw the opportunity for a leisurely stroll, and took it. sitting on the curb, sunshine warmed her skin as she yanked the laces of the skates, considering what she would be doing today. with her camera in hand, the answer seemed obvious. skate across the city, taking candid snaps and maybe stopping for coffee – genevieve congratulated herself on such a good idea, although it was pretty much what she did every other day. standing shakily, the accident-prone girl slung her bag across her shoulder and wrapped her polaroid strap firmly around her right wrist. if she were to drop her precious camera, she would skate herself into the ocean as it was her life. the left hand would be used to collect the snaps as they processed and shake them as she skated. it seemed somewhat precarious, but genevieve was now an expert at the fine-art of balancing on wheels. she had only been in hospital about a dozen times, an achievement, she was sure. as she kicked off, legs pumping and hips swinging, the harsh honk of a car startled her and she latched onto the nearest pole, holding tightly as she circled slightly. whoops. have to be more careful. setting off again, genevieve kept to the left, hair streaming around her face, a healthy flush colouring her cheeks. the street before her was somewhat deserted this early in the morning, so the female allowed her thoughts to wander. jellicoe was beautiful but somewhat isolated. genevieve liked the big-city, but she knew how easy it was to get lost in the crowd, she knew how impersonal it was and not to mention there were hardly any boutiques or thrift stores. on this island, however, it was basically the polar opposite. gossip travelled like wildfire, and you’d see acquaintances everyday – not to mention, everyone was your acquaintance. it made privacy slightly hazardous, because when you kept to yourself, everyone thought you had something to hide. genevieve shook her hair out her face as she jumped the curb, continuing along the road towards the city square. as she passed a mother and her child, she ducked low and snapped her camera. the polaroid made a loud clicking sound as the shutter activated and a whirr as it spat out a picture, which was promptly collected in her left hand. by ducking, she had sped up a fair bit, leading to the soft application of the brakes. it wouldn’t do to collide into an elderly woman or squish a child, or simply be hit by a car. laughter spilled out of her lips as she remembered her insurer warn her that if she continued to put herself into potentially life-threatening situations, that her cover with the firm would be suspended. raising the picture, she looked down at it quickly. it was a blur of erratic colours, but she could make out the woman’s hand holding that of her child’s. oh, how sweet. life was beautiful, she thought, as she flashed past trees bordering the avenue. jellicoe was one of the only cities that had so much nature still surrounding it. migration to here was in high demand, but it was designed as a place for young adults to occupy. possibly in an attempt to ensure that the offspring of the next generation would be healthy, growing up in such a fresh and clean environment. genevieve felt somewhat like a lab rat or rather, a guinea pig, but didn’t let it bother her – it was the sort of day that’s care-free and she was doing what she loved the most. smiling, she turned the polaroid on herself, snapping a picture, which she then mechanically collected with her left hand, not bothering to look at it as she sped on.